Finding A Place
by plenoptic
Summary: Postmovie. The Autobots are finding their place in a new world...but Optimus is drowning in his own nostalgia. Noticing his misery, Maggie comes to the rescue with pig innards in hand. The Pit!


**Finding a Place**

_Plenoptic_

**Kills me though it does, I thought it would be fun to manipulate the human characters in the TF movie just a little bit. So I'm basically drabbling here, but consider it an exploration of the literary arts…**

. F I L E . O P E N E D .

The various government employees in the United States Pentagon saw some very interesting things in the course of their work. They saw all sorts of weirdos, they saw all sorts of corrupt politicians and freaked out crack heads, they saw all sorts of power hungry government officials who only occasionally went insane in the bathrooms.

But there was definitely something unique about the handsome youth who stepped out of the flame-boasting Semi and asked to see the Secretary of Defense.

In all normal instances, holograms were merely tricks of light. You could not touch them, nor speak to them, nor could you develop a logical crush on one (not that crushes were ever logical to begin with). Ratchet's idea of a hologram, however, was a bit different. Ratchet's idea of a hologram was a DNA based carbon copy of the alien whose spark shard it contained. Ratchet's idea of a hologram was a perfect carbon copy that could be easily placed in stasis and used whenever it was convenient, and could be controlled by its respective alien. Ratchet's "holograms" perfectly personified each and every Autobot, right down to physical condition and health. In fact, the only thing that was imperfect was the comparison of age. Not that Optimus was complaining. He rather liked being in a fit young body again--it had a touch of nostalgia that reminded him of his more carefree days with his beloved Ariel at his side.

Not that now was the time to be nostalgic. The Decepticons were mobilizing. How, he quite frankly had no idea. But something was occurring on Earth's moon, and it had nothing to do with no freaking satellite.

And so, once again, Optimus Prime found himself being led down the hall by John Keller's personal advisor, a miss Maggie Madsen. She was talking animatedly as usual, delighted to have someone to talk to who knew exactly what she was talking about--and of course it didn't help that Optimus's carbon form was possibly the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Even if his left cheek was taped over with adhesive padding due to the vicious punch he'd received from Bonecrusher. Whatever. He was hot.

On that particular morning, Maggie couldn't help but notice that her normally enthusiastic audience seemed a bit distant. She halted slightly in her tirade against hackers to glance over her shoulder at him. Two bandaged hands had retreated uncharacteristically into his jeans pockets--and she noted that he had forgotten a belt--and his broad shoulders were hunched slightly beneath a bright red hooded sweatshirt. Almost disgustingly casual attire for a surprise meeting with the Secretary of Defense. His shaggy blonde hair was even more untidy than usual, though she knew from experience that it was simply because he didn't like to bother much with appearances. It was his eyes that worried her most; normally alert and curious, the dark blue irises were focused downward at worn grey sneakers.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked awkwardly, and it actually took a moment for him to recognize that she was speaking directly to him.

"Pardon? Oh, yes, yes…not enough recharge, that's all."

She lifted an eyebrow and paused, and he followed suit. If there was one thing she knew about men, it was like they liked their sleep. A lot. Only the most dedicated actually sacrificed it for--say, _work._ Then again, Optimus was undoubtedly dedicated. "What are you up to?"

"Just…just the aftermath, and whatnot. There is much to be done…and honestly not a lot of time to do it," he mumbled, returning his gaze to the floor, though really honestly just too tired to even keep his head up. "I really do need to speak to the Sec--"

"Oh, right, right. Sorry. Let's just keep going, sorry for intruding. I know how you men like your privacy."

They continued, for once in silence. Optimus opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words died in his throat. He had little to say anymore. He swallowed somewhat nervously, suddenly wanting very badly to let the carbon copy drop to the floor so he could focus his energy into his native body's membranes. As intrigued as he was by this human body, he didn't like it. Not much.

Not much at all.

"How…how's Jazz?"

Maggie glanced over her shoulder and smiled slightly. "That nutcase who went to stay with Glen? Nuttier than ever. But I think he's having a good time."

"Well, good, but…is he recovering?"

"Yeah, I think he's pretty much okay. Why? Haven't you seen him lately?"

"I've been…preoccupied."

"Oh." They fell silent once more. Optimus sighed inwardly, and his shoulders lowered even further. So Jazz was enjoying himself on this strange new planet. Well, that was good news. Still…the commander was forced to kick the small tingling envy that erupted in his abdominal region. He'd been doing this a lot lately, in all reality. Ironhide was apparently kept busy by Will Lennox's constant moving abouts, and Ratchet was currently very busy working--shockingly--at Tranquility's local hospital. And Bumblebee was…what, playing with Sam and Mikaela? Jazz, after reaching partial recovery due to Ratchet's heightened efforts, had taken a liking to Glen Whitmann's musical, energetic abode, though he was teased by his comrades, who insisted he had passionate feelings for Glen's grandmother.

"…Ya lonely?"

Optimus looked up, startled by Maggie's abrupt question. The young analyst had stopped and turned to look up at him; he was a good head taller than she was, even in human form (whereas in his native body he towered a good twenty feet above her). He dipped his chin once more to meet her gaze, and was about to reply, was about to dismiss her question entirely; he was a commander, he was a worker of his own free will, and he very nearly told her so…

Instead, he nodded helplessly. "I…I'm just not sure…what to do anymore. I'm not sure where to go. Who to talk to. I can't ask them to come back…just for me. I can't ask them to do that. They're finally starting to adjust. They are finding their place here. I can't ask them…to give that up for me. But…I don't know…what should I…?"

She moved close and hugged him. The gesture was alien, and the abrupt contact made him shiver, but it was unthreatening and…warm. Gentle. Comforting. Like she was trying to help. Like she truly cared. It was not something he was used to, but he found he did not mind having her slender arms tighten around his chest--until the pain hit.

With a cry he fell to his knees, and she released him fast, startled by his sudden outburst. "Hey…what…?" She knelt at his side, confused, unsure of what to do as he pressed a hand to his chest, gasping for air.

"…Sorry…" he mumbled after a moment, his breath easing slightly. With a groan he fell to his rear and leaned against the wall, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. "Old wounds. Don't tell Ratchet, though."

"You sounded like it hurt."

"It does hurt."

"Maybe Ratchet needs to know…?"

"He is preoccupied, both with his disguise among the humans and with Jazz. I don't want to trouble him further. Besides, my body is capable of recovering naturally. It just…"

"You don't have the proper energy, right?"

He blinked his eyes open and looked over at her, slightly surprised. "Correct. We have not yet found the means to mine Earth's energon deposits…"

Maggie grinned, and he found the gesture made him worry just a little bit about his own well being. "Well, then, how about I juice you up? You're parked out front, right? You're coming with me, this thing with Keller can wait."

"Huh? No, wait…Maggie…"

"Come on. You want to fit in on Earth, right? Well, lemme show ya how a real American does it. Hurry up, Opt, we don't got all day. Move your ass."

"Aft," he corrected, sighing as she pulled him to his feet and began attempting to pull him back the way they had just come. "Margaret, I…"

"Oh, if you ever call me that again, I swear…" she growled, and he decided to let it drop.

And so Optimus Prime was led by the hand out of the Pentagon to his own waiting inorganic body by the Secretary of Defense's advisor. Yes, the Pentagon employees saw it all.

"I'll drive," she said, pushing him away from his own driver's seat. "You just run the engine and relax. You're hurt, and you're totally beat, right? Put your feet up for once. My treat."

He grudgingly went around the front of the Semi and climbed into the passenger side, pulling the door closed behind him with a little more force than was absolutely necessary. She smirked slightly as she pulled the vehicle out of its parked position and into the open road, feeling slightly more confident on the capital's busy roads now that she knew she would be doing the squishing rather than being the squashed.

Optimus leant his head against the window, watching the many faces and buildings flash by like a slowed down news reel. The ache in his chest had subsided, leaving room for the awful emptiness to claw its way into his spark. He sighed unwillingly, and Maggie glanced over at him, her expression sympathetic. In the month she'd known the mech, she'd never seen him so down, even the days prior to Jazz's miraculous revival.

"You got a girlfriend, Optimus?" she asked suddenly, and once again he was stumped by her out-of-the-freaking-blue question. "I mean, have ya got some girl out there in the vast universe waiting for you?"

He blinked slowly, and the ache returned afresh in his spark. "…I…I don't know where she is. Or if she's even alive. If she is, I hope…I hope she's waiting for me."

"Does this mystery chicka have a name? Is she cute? What's she like?"

"Elita One," he breathed, the words honey on his lips. It had been a long time since he had spoken them, and quite frankly it was to her face that he had been hoping to; he had so desperately wanted her name to be whispered lovingly into her audio receptor as his hands caressed her body for the first time in vorns and vorns, as their lips met in a much-missed, tender kiss, as he confessed his undying--

"Yo, Optimus? Ya still with me, there?"

"Oh--Oh, yes. Sorry. The mind wanders in old age."

"Yeah, well, I asked if she was cute."

"She's beautiful," Optimus moaned, sliding down in his seat, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Her armor absolutely sparkles when she walks, and her stride is graceful, and her face is serious when needed and other times alight with her laugh--oh, Primus, her _laugh_--and her hips--"

He broke off, his face now a deep, deep red, and he retreated further towards the floor as he realized he was getting a little too into detail. His hands missed her hips. A lot.

"There!" Maggie suddenly yelped, slamming the breaks, and Optimus was pitched forward, having forgotten to secure his seat belt. He scowled deeply as he sat up, rubbing his head, as Maggie had collapsed into a fit of laughter.

"Oh, sorry--ah ha hah!--your _face--!"_

"I'm glad you find my face amusing," he grumbled, opening the door and climbing out to survey his surroundings. "Huh. It's a park?"

"Best place around," she replied, still giggling as she, too, exited the vehicle. "Hang on, go sit your butt down somewhere. I'm gonna go get something."

"What?"

"It's a surprise, now sit down."

She hurried off without another word, and he sat huffily in the grass, glaring moodily after her. A group of preschool children were playing nearby, a game that seemed to involve them all sitting in a circle while one traveled its circumference, whacking each of peers upon the head in turn and shouting the word "Duck!" Optimus couldn't help but smile as he watched them, as one child was called a "GOOSE!" and leapt up to chase the other.

His attention wandered across the park to a very young couple--maybe of fifteen or so--relaxed in the grass, quite clearly lost in each other's arms. A few passerby giggled and "awwww"ed, but Optimus could sympathize with the youngsters; after all, many vorns ago, he and Ariel had often reclined in a very similar position.

"Here!" a very energetic Maggie said, thrusting a small something into his lap. Picking it up, he frowned slightly. It appeared to be cylindrical, squishy to the touch, and was wrapped in shiny silver foil.

"What is it?" he inquired, wondering what on Earth he was supposed to do with the soft, warm object.

"It's a hot dog, stupid," she snorted, plopping down beside him and peeling the foil off of hers.

His frowned deepened. "It is…a very warm, four legged mammal?"

"No, it's food," she snorted, taking a monstrous bite from the wiener. "You eat it. Don't ask me why they call them hot dogs, I don't think anyone actually knows. Whoever invented the thing must've been on crack or something…try it, it's good. You robots don't have a sense of taste, do you?"

"We do, it's just not something we soldiers utilize often," Optimus replied, cautiously pulling away the foil. "When you're in the field with a bare few cubes of energon left, you don't worry about how it tastes. All you really know is that you need energy…"

"Eat," she snorted, already half way through hers. "This is what we Americans live off of. Every day. I swear, one out of every five people must eat a hot dog for every meal."

"…That's absolutely revolting," he replied mildly, and she laughed. It was a rather pleasant sound, and Optimus smiled; as much as he had tried to distance himself from these humans, he couldn't help but like Maggie.

"Hurry up and eat, ya big lug," she said, grinning at him. "You're making me feel fat, which is totally unfair, because you must weigh two freakin' tons."

And so, for the first time, Optimus Prime ate a hot dog.

It was not bad. Not bad at all.

Six or so hot dogs later, both reclined in the grass, lazily watching pigeons drift through the darkening sky. If he squinted, Optimus could just make out the beginnings of stars amidst the clouds. Closing his eyes, it took him a moment to identify the odd feeling that was progressively washing through him. The loneliness had subsided, leaving an almost content sensation in his spark. He smiled faintly, but his peace was interrupted violently when he felt Maggie's small fingers intertwine with his.

"Um…"

"Optimus, I'm gonna try something. Don't hit me or anything like that, okay? Please, please don't be offended…I don't know how appropriate this is in your culture."

"Uh, okay…?"

She rolled over, and his spark gave a funny jolt when he found her straddling his waist. Reaching forward, she grabbed him by the front of his sweatshirt and jerked him into an upright position so she fell more elegantly into his lap. He blinked, confused, but her intent became clear as she leaned into him and pressed her lips against his. His eyes widened, his spark hammering in his chest as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to her. He pressed his eyes closed, half expecting his processor to scream in protest--and, to his shock, discovered he didn't mind her kiss.

He didn't mind at all.

She pulled away far too soon and sat back in the grass, her hands still on his shoulders as she gazed curiously into his eyes. "Weird," she said simply, and he blinked. "I thought I felt something just now. Go figure. I've got chemistry with an alien I could never, ever have sex with. Unless…" she cocked her head curiously. "What exactly can these carbon bodies do?"

"I have no idea," he said quickly, terrified of what torture Maggie could find to inflict upon him if she knew their bodies were capable of reproduction.

She smirked slightly and jumped to her feet, using his shoulders to push herself off the ground. "Well, whatever. Not a big deal, right? Because now that we've eaten hot dogs together, we are officially buds. Let's go, you still need to talk to Keller."

Both climbed back into his inorganic body, Optimus still feeling somewhat dazed. She turned on his radio, turning the knob as far to the right as it would go. He settled back into his seat as she revved the engine, enjoying the music even though it was loud enough to make the cab vibrate. The streets and sights of Washington D. C. flew by far faster than they had previously, and the Pentagon seemed to pop out of limbo as they pulled around the corner. Maggie parked the cab and hopped out of the seat, and looked surprised when he did not follow.

"You're not coming?" she inquired, and he shook his head.

"It's late. I'll let him return home to his family for now. It can wait for tomorrow."

She nodded, her expression carefully blank. "Hey, Optimus."

"Yes?"

"If you get lonely again, come on over. We'll hang again."

He cocked his head slowly, his eyes searching hers, and found only absolute truth there. Smiling, he moved over to the driver's seat and ignited the Cybertronian engine, his grin broadening as it roared to life. "I'll see you then."

. E N D . T R A N S M I S S I O N .


End file.
